


"You have to meet people where they are, and sometimes you have to leave them there."

by Likorys



Series: Tumblr snippets [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: All hurt no comfort, M/M, because I needed to make it seem a little better than it was, my way of dealing with the finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likorys/pseuds/Likorys
Summary: My take on what happened in Geralt's head at the mountain and what Jaskier thought of it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Tumblr snippets [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651510
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66





	"You have to meet people where they are, and sometimes you have to leave them there."

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a quote by Iyanla Vanzant.

_If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take **you** off my hands!_

Words spill out before he can stop them, because for once he doesn’t try to keep them in. They are true - or the sentiment is, at least, the sentence itself as clumsy and not quite right as all his attempts at talking about feelings.

Witchers don’t feel, what utter tripe. He’d give anything for it to be true, to make his life easier, because witchers do feel, they feel just like humans if not more, their senses mutated down to the very last one. But in Kaer Morhen, there was no teaching Geralt what it means when _his blood freezes_ anytime Jaskier calls for his name in that scared voice that breaks the word in half, why _his skin crawls_ when drunken patrons in taverns try to buy Jaskier for the rest of a night like a common whore and bard tenses into stone under false smiles and gentle corrections, why _his body melts_ whenever Jaskier bathes him as if he shouldn't be wary as he’s laid bare and defenseless and at the mercy of slim, deft fingers and soft humming and scented oils.

No teaching what to do _when his heart seems to break into pieces_ because all he wishes for is to keep the bard with him, close and protected and safe above all else, but it’s being with him that poses the biggest threat to the man.

**The djinn,**

blood at his face and cancer spreading under his skin, in pain and pale and muted and all because Geralt lost a few nights of sleep (because Jaskier demanded they sleep every night and he allowed himself to get used to small comfort), because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and didn’t think at all (because it was so easy to fall into familiar banter with Jaskier after a winter apart, so easy to think nothing changed and ignore the twisting feeling in his chest that bore the name _Stael_ and coiled around his lungs until he had to force every breath), 

**the child surprise,**

from the cuckold cornering him against the wall (and how many times has he seen death brought by jealousy, how many time the peppery smell foretold tragedies and misery, how many monsters were born from it only to die to steel and silver alike), to the sudden brawl (and how easy it is for a stray hit to find an innocent target, how easy it is when halberds get broken and swords clash and daggers fly and tables are overturned), the whirlwind of magic (and how wild and uncontrolled it is, older than the world and fleeting in a moment, as it moves through everything in its path with no concerns about being just),

**all of it,**

all because the bard followed him, because he threw himself into Geralt’s life and all its discomforts and dangers, the pain and injustice, and somehow _stayed_ , undeterred by anything. The lute he spends nights getting used to, his fingers in the early morning bloody; the soft doe-skin shoes replaced by thick leather and soft silks replaced by cottons and linens, no less vibrant by much less costly; the soft skin now marred with scars and bruises from monsters that got to him before steel or silver could end their lives.

**Everything.**

Everything so hard and harsh and deadly, so close to the bard, this pretty little thing in bright clothes and feathered hat, with those sunny smiles and mouth that never shuts up even when it would do him good. Everything a hair’s breadth away from tragedy and all because he kept to Geralt’s side. 

Even the mighty destiny couldn’t keep Yennefer by his side without it crashing to the ground… what chance has a bard who followed him by choice, against the witcher’s curse of loneliness?

Best to send him off (don’t listen when he talks about taking the stories from the others, don’t think about him still wanting to spin this farce of a contract into a glorious song, don’t think don’t think don’t think ).

Best to scare him away (don’t remember his scent, the flowers and soap and dry wood, no sour hint of fear on the winds until the sweetness festered with the sharp sting of pain and hurt and so much suffering, don’t think don’t think don’t think).

Best to be rid of him by his own choice, before bard makes the choice for him (don’t think about the coast and don’t wonder what pleases you, don’t think of scalding baths and scented oils, of mindless chatter during long roads or endless shuffling when they’re asleep, don’t think don’t think don’t think).

Best let him go alive than wait for the day he fails him and there is another corpse for him to bury.

This is for the best. It has to be.

* * *

It’s not the first time.

That’s what he keeps telling himself, because he needed something to keep the tears from falling until he was outside of Geralt’s witchery super-hearing.

It’s not the first time, he can’t even count how many times he woke up in empty rooms, Geralt long gone, but it hurt worse this time, because the insults were new. He knows, logically, Geralt’s was a dick to try and blame his life’s mistakes on him, but-

Well. He did bring him to Cintra and did mess with the djinn and that’s when it all went down, isn’t it?

“Fuck!” he slumps onto a rock and throws his pack aside. He hugs his lute and cringes at the realization he left the case at the mountain.

Oh, well. Not like he has all that much else to loose now, is it, after Geralt-

_No._

It’s not the first time.

They will part for a week, a month, a season, maybe a little longer (428 days after Cintra, after Geralt run off without a word and Jaskier was run out for association by Queen’s guards, 428 days alone and without a word about Geralt, like the witcher knew Jaskier trailed along tales of his new contracts to keep up making songs and decided to keep low or make people quiet).

It's not the first time!

They’ll part and then meet again, they’ll never talk about what happened (about Jaskier cornering a wild wolf and a bite he got for it, not the first one nor the last, because the wolf deserves the petting and Jaskier never learns), and everything will return to normal.

It’s not the first time and it’s not gonna be the last.

It can’t, because if it is then Jaskier’s not sure he’s strong enough to put a bleeding heart between sharp teeth again.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by lovely, gorgeous fanarts by @chirpycharlotte and ningyogaaru, to be found here https://chirpycharlotte.tumblr.com/post/190348461829/eventually-they-all-leave and here https://ningyogaaru.tumblr.com/post/190609557527/witchers-can-be-such-jerks-some-times


End file.
